EO Challenge (Multiple words) NOBODY'S SOLDIER BUT HIS OWN
by Spirit Burner AKA Chick Feed
Summary: It had been the same way all his life, now however he was, in effect, dead. He'd been happy to chill, hang around. Why not? He'd got all Eternity ahead of him. What's the rush? Could it be that nothing really seemed to have changed...Except him. Major Spoiler Alert S10:1 Deancentric. Additions/extensions to episode scenes. How it might be? Not a happy clappy fic.


E/O Challenge (Multiple word) :  
>Stale, suspension, nefarious, impish, contrite, blue, laugh, pencil, tongue, sunshine.<br>Word Count : **1000**

**Spoiler Alert** : Season 10, Episode 1  
>Disclaimer : My lack of ownership continues, as does my sadness at the fact.<p>

**NOBODY'S SOLDIER BUT HIS OWN**

It had been the same way all his life, now however he was, in  
>effect, dead. He'd been happy to chill, hang around, why not?<br>He'd got all eternity ahead of him. What's the rush? Could it  
>be that nothing really seemed to have changed...Except him?<p>

-oOo-

Blue eyes had gazed back at him sadly. "I'm gonna walk out this door believing I deserved that." Left alone, Dean rolled his eyes; at least she hadn't slammed the door when she left. He shrugged, maybe one time he'd have felt somewhat contrite, maybe thrown her some half assed apology, trying to make her feel better about screwing around; not anymore. It was her loss. The fact was, he'd shown a massive amount of commitment to her, given the circumstances. More than he'd shown to any woman in a long time. Smiling impishly to himself, Dean patted the bed space she had recently vacated. Yup, he'd committed himself to her time and time again, right there, and for more than one night. Hell, by his previous standards they'd almost been going steady! He'd committed to her enough to defend her from her jerk of a husband. The fact that he'd thoroughly enjoyed pummelling the dick's face bloody was an added bonus. And now, with the atmosphere around this place growing stale and boring, he'd even suggested they get out of there together, leave this dismal joint and go find some sunshine somewhere. He'd even, very kindly he thought, said nothing out loud about it being a short term thing that would end as soon as he got bored with _her_, which would inevitably happen.

-o-

Dean glanced at the door again. Maybe the dumb bitch wasn't so dumb? Maybe she'd already figured out he'd dump her, leaving her stranded wherever they ended up, just as soon as he felt like trading her in? Dean stretched, cat like, as he continued to mull things over. That's women for you, they're never satisfied by the fact that they're gettin' great tongue, they all ended up aiming for the ring. Dean gave a burst of laughter at his own double entendre. Still grinning, he climbed out of bed, simultaneously scratching both his naked butt and his chest as he headed for the shower. Dumb blonde or no dumb blonde, he still intended gettin' out of here, today, whether it suited his newest _best mate_ Crowley's various nefarious plots or not.

-o-

Walking into the dive of a bar he'd been hanging out at, Dean's gaze flicked to the Karaoke stage and he smirked. He'd totally rocked that stage, not once letting himself be put off by the audience's lack of musical appreciation, inbreeds that they all were. Wherever he ended up, he'd have to make sure there was another Karaoke bar somewhere close by. The guy serving fixed a forced smile on his face when he saw Dean heading his way. He quickly noticed the full duffle slung over Dean's shoulder, and his spirits rose. Since the guy had decided to more or less move into his bar, or more to the point onto the Karaoke stage, his customer numbers had consistently dropped, leading to the suspension of two regular staff as his profits left along with his custom. He sincerely hoped the duffle was a sign the moron was at last moving on; finding some other poor sap's business to ruin.

"What can I getcher?"

"Crowley slitherin' around anywhere?"

"Not seen him recently. You headin' out somewhere?"

"Might be. Gimme a pencil an' some paper will yer? An' a beer while you're at it."

-o-

Dean's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening as he prepared to leave Crowley a note. Last one of these he'd written was to Sam, he'd not stopped to wonder since then until now whether Sam had broken a lifetime's habit and done what he was told for once? Dean shoved the thought away as irrelevant. Whether he had or not, that was Sam's problem, not his. The note Dean scrawled for Crowley read pretty much the same as the one he'd left for Sam. Slugging down his beer, Dean folded the note in half and held it out to the barman between two fingers.

"Make sure an' give that to him when he appears. So-long."

Dean headed to the exit. Glancing at the note, the barman called out to Dean.

"Hey! What about your tab?"

Dean didn't bother looking back.

"See Crowley, he'll sort it."

"He'll want to know where you're headin'."

Dean paused in the doorway briefly, still not turning around.

"Yeah. He will, won't he?"

-o-

Crowley had been furious when he finally got the note and rang Dean.

"You can't just go pissing off sightseeing, you an' me pal, we've got big plans. So just be a good boy, matey, and turn that damn car around, _right now! _Otherwise, my friend, we're goin' to have a problem, an' _neither_ of us would want that..._Understand_?"

Dean understood all too well. Maybe it was because he wasn't getting distracted by Crowley's face and the scruffy looking beard he was currently sporting? Whatever the reason, Dean was able to tune into that certain something underlying Crowley's angry tone and Dean instantly recognised it for what it was..._Fear_. Crowley was afraid of him, afraid of what he'd become, afraid of losing him, just like it seemed he was doing right now. Dean kept his tone steady, fighting the urge to turn the car around, go back to the bar, and show Crowley just how _much_ he should be afraid.

"Let me make this as clear as I can _asshat_. There _is_ no you an me, gottit? I'm not your toy soldier, you don't get to order me around, an' you don't get to use me to fight your battles. Do _you_ understand? I'm _done_ with that crap. Dad, Alistair, the Angels, Hell even you...You've all had your turn. Well, news flash, it's _my_ turn now. Dean Winchester died when Metetron skewered him. I'm not that guy. And Crowley? Don't think I won't rip your heart out an' _eat_ it if I see you near me."

-o-

The next time Dean's phone rang, the caller ID had flashed up Sam. Dean stuck to his word. _No more_. He was nobody's soldier but his own...

**-oOo-  
><strong>**FIN  
><span>**Reviews keep me writing such cheerful fics ;p  
>Hugs, Chick xxx<p> 


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